Pieces
by damnation soldier
Summary: Being in the gray makes things more dangerous than ever. Everyone's out for her blood. Yet she doesn't want to be saved, that much, she'd confessed. This is a story about taking control, or for lack of a better word, losing it altogether. Note: Canon/Semi-canon pairings, possibly Red Arrow/OC.
1. Chapter 1: Goodbye Apathy

A/N: In case it was unclear, I'm here to tell you this is an OC insertion story. Not the whole 'he/she becomes part of the team' fic kind of thing, they've had too many of those, and I don't want to rewrite the episodes by reviewing the transcript to show all the stuff that happens in it, so yeah. She (it is a 'she' by the way) does, however, get involved (doesn't have to be romantically) with some of the characters. This is actually my attempt at making a more action-y and complex fic, since most of my other ones are usually based on a given pairing or a preferred character instead of an actual idea/plot. This fic doesn't primarily feature all the canon screen time in the series, it's more of a behind the series kind of story. Chapter 1 to me is more of a prologue than an actual chapter but I'll make do with what I've got. Pairings are undecided. You can even prompt me some suggestions about that, it would be most welcomed. For the moment I believe I'd stick to the canon, but I might dip in to some of my more recent preferences, like I admit I'm a total sucker for some Traught. Enough rambling. So I guess this bit is the debut, and I hope you guys like it. Tell me what you think! Like.. should I continue for starters? **  
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**Chapter 1**

_Goodbye Apathy_

She moves quickly. She's already taken two thugs down, subduing them without virtually too much energy. The third had a gun pointed at her, but he hesitated, and she slid over, galloping up to disarm him. The man cried out as his fingers had broken due to her assault, and furiously came up to get a hit at her with his unharmed hand.

It was almost too easy. Too predictable of a cowardly move for a street thug, coming at her for an attack from what he thought was an unseen angle.

After swiftly jabbing the crook in the gut behind her with her left elbow, she turned sideways to uppercut him shortly. He was knocked out. Another one came at her with a knife slashing through the air, and she patiently waited as the momentum came, before she spun, kicking her leg out high to send the man falling off by his shoulder. The knife harmlessly clattered to the asphalt, and he raised his eyes to meet hers, both in trepidation and somewhat, disbelief.

She sneers, half disgusted and pleasured, "Lights out little man." With that, her gloved fist collided with his face, harshly, as he made a tremulous noise, before crippling down, unconscious.

Even as the unbridled rush of the four on one fight ended, the young woman pivoted on her heel, a calculated expression on her sharp face. She's always hated fighting on low grounds, it made her vulnerable, but crime in the city was generally down below in the slum's dirt and not above in the skyline for the elite.

She scoffed. Elite like the supers and metas, and rich kids who have turnabouts to be affiliated by them even when they had no powers, no edge. Humans like her.

She shook her head briefly, before calling out her threat to the rooftops. _I seem to be having an audience tonight. That's a change for starters._ "I know you're there. Don't bother hiding or I'll come after you.." Her voice echoed through the night, and she wasn't bluffing, she'd only be a climb away to race after this unknown watcher, as his cover had blown over regardless of how silent he was being.

She wonder who'd it be. Who'd the League send to handle her, a local crime-fighter who protrudes out of nowhere in these last months with nothing to her name.

She wonders if they'll piece it together. The eighteen year old who's gone invisible ever since last summer, and the vigilante who popped up mostly every night to deal with the smaller scale meddlers.

The meddlers who they said to have handled, and prohibited any other to do so. _That's what you get when you're not part of the clan, or the cops. You're forbidden to enforce justice. But they don't take care of it either, too big for these small queries, only focused on saving the world from big things. But trouble comes in all sizes, that's what they've forgotten._

They'll probably send out the normal ones to not tease her as much. Batman maybe, intimidating, full blooded human, but it wasn't his city, and Gotham was practically his cage, or cave. It had to be someone more communicable too. Maybe the Flash. He was the friendliest in the bunch after all._  
_

Anyhow, she'd find out soon enough. The seconds tick by, and she assumed her _guardian angel_ had left, but she hadn't heard any sounds of escape. And it just wasn't how those heroes rolled.

Surely, the outline of a man appeared from the shadows, just a few buildings far east. He was still partially cloaked in the darkness, yet to be completely unveiled but she could see his form, it was a man, that much is obvious from the strong build, but keen as she was she saw other details too.

Like the fully stocked quiver strapped behind his back, and what she could only presume to be a collapsible bow latched onto his belt.

The lack of a hood perched onto his head gave away the identity. She could also see his skin from the length of his arms too, his toned bicep, his silhouette dimly draped by the moonlight.

"So, tell me. Do I have to climb up the fire escape for the fifth time tonight, or are you going to come down? If they taught you how to use a bow and arrow, surely it wouldn't have been a problem for you to learn some manners.."

The male redhead came down shortly, using a zip-line arrow, his landing smooth. He got up from the crouch, and stepped closer to regard the young woman.

Any other girl would've stepped back, or if they were those types who worshiped the very ground he walked on, would've swooned at the sight of the archer.

He seems to be slightly phased, that his arrival, upon close distance didn't seem to affect her one bit. In fact she was a picture of utter nonchalance. He knew it wouldn't be easy with her, he just didn't want to believe it.

"How long have you been watching me?"

Roy looked amused under the mask. He was the one obligated to the questions, and she to the answer. But everything's kind of reversed when you're dealing with someone as stubborn, as spirited as the girl in front of him. She reminded him of his replacement on the team, bold, not afraid to speak her mind. Still, there was something fishy about the adolescent female archer, Artemis, but for the moment, the red clad archer put it to the back of his mind, having other things far more important to deal with in the present.

For instances, the renegade in front of him.

"You'd rather not know."

For the past three weeks actually. She's been a rather reverberant stake out subject of his, other than the Shadows of course. He's heard of her from the radio and papers since a month and a half ago, but he's never paid attention to her headliners until that one night she beat him from solving a robbery.

He couldn't help it. He's intrigued.

She circled him. "You're here to tell me something, you might as well spit it out. Not that I'd ever listen anyways."

He's glad she's stopped moving, so he tells her, dead on both their spots. "You need to stop. This isn't your fight."

She's not wearing a mask, so her golden brown eyes are glinting questioningly, almost asking _whose is it then?_

"It's- it's ours." _It's mine._

"Did I hear you correctly? _Ours?_ I thought Speedy had a change of heart and decided to bail on Goldilocks and went all Red Riding Hood.." _  
_

Red Arrow looked somewhat pleased at the mock of a nickname for his former mentor but stiffened almost tiredly at his own. "It's Red Arrow."

"Hmm, I can clearly see that," her eyes trailed over him, from the combat boots to the spike of ginger atop his head, and he discreetly appreciates her look of marvel at his new appearance. Roy was clearly happier with the new costume.

The girl quietly walked closer towards him, they were standing eye to eye, only a foot away from one another. She didn't touch him, but he could almost feel her itching to poke him with the accusatory finger on his chest. Her voice is calm, but he could hear the irritation in it.

"And as for your _concern_, though I doubt it was anything of the like - maybe, pride, or the fact that you're still the League's loyal little lapdog as much as you hate yourself to be, I don't care, I'll have to ignore you, Red."

"You don't know what you're doing out there," he trapped her wrist as she was about to walk away, his hold as strong as iron. He hadn't lost his temper, no, not yet, she's misguided and lost, and she thinks she isn't, so he's bound to get a bit steely, but angry? No. Just frustrated.

"Do I?" She motioned towards the fallen bodies beneath her. They wouldn't wake up for another hour with the way she had fought them.

"That's not the point," he glared at her through the whites of his mask, and she gave him an equally condescending stare.

"I can fight. I've trained. Maybe not as long as you and all those others did, but it doesn't matter. I'm not out for blood either. I don't kill, I just hunt these crooks down when they feel stupid. And that happens pretty often."

"You're not violating League policies, I know, but doesn't mean you're sticking to the laws. You're acting without authorization."

She struggles, and he releases her. She stays rooted to where she stands though, eager to get the last word on him.

"The cops still get their meat. I'm just helping out."

"You're making a difference, I get it. But this isn't some child's play, this is the real world-"

"-I am not a child! And what I'm doing might be trivial or problematic to you and your higher ups, but I'm not going to stop. I won't _ever_ stop."

"The Justice League," he says that with a bit of ire in his voice, but resumes his persuasive tone once more, almost immediately, "is competent enough to handle crime, off world and bound. We don't need anymore loose ends." _No matter how good of a fighter you are._

The archer's been on the look out for her for quite a long time, he'd started out looking by the inner city but after a week of seeing nothing, he realized he was doing his search on an incorrect approach._  
_

Truth be told, he started patrolling by the seedier neighborhoods, and his likelihood of spotting her increased by a million to one. She was literally running around the place like she owned it.

What was stupid and reckless about it was that she'd get bruised without even noticing it, too much adrenalin and resolve in her veins. And what was even worse was the population inhabiting the area.

It was practically like the crime alley of Gotham if he were to be blunt. Sure, the idiots were sloppy, but they also had no qualms about going in for the kill.

She's smart, but not smart enough if she thinks she can take on the world alone.

He's seen the way she dismisses the rips in her outfit, the way she limps on those less lucky nights. It didn't happen a lot, and she's never been shot in her vitals, often cases involved bullet grazes, but still, either way, it marked her skin.

_Blood, sweat, and tears, that's what you're asking for, girlie. You haven't seen the worst of it yet at this rate. And believe me, you don't want to._

He's trying to find a way to put his statement in the least offensive way possible, as he learned that women are appallingly touchy creatures, but that's not his forte, it never is, so the silence welcomes her the opportunity to belittle him instead. _  
_

"I'm not your responsibility, so you can tell your boss to cut me off. Leave me be. I'm not even mingling with your villains," she said, defiant.

She made a rather fair point. She wasn't painting a target on anyone, and she didn't force her way through any sort of illegal measures to do her thing. She's never stolen evidence, or made someone unrelated to be her personal mission, or anything of the like. She'd set her lines, but the League didn't like it anyway.

"I know my place, you should know yours. I think it's been made clear that I'm serious and educated enough to take care of my well being. I don't need any protectors."

"Not according to Principal Miller at Keystone."

He just had to pull that out, and it worked, provoking her in an instant.

The brunette turned, concealing her mortified expression, replacing it with subtle agitation. "You know who I am, _great_.."

"What happened to you? Why did you drop out? Why did you become this? I know what happened to your parents but if that was about them you would've started years ago.." _Why the sudden urge to chase justice? That develops overtime, not suddenly. There has to be a turning point, and yours concluded when you were a child._

She ignores his puzzlement, and steps up to narrow down the gap between them once more, her expression unreadable. Their bodies were almost pressed up at this point, one sided tension emitting from her. "I suggest you go find a new hobby other than stalking me. Because your knowledge of my personal life is creeping me out. I bet you even know where I live," the frozen expression on the young man's face confirms it, and she lets out a low dispassionate growl, "Don't even answer that."

"You _have_ to stop. You're not fitted for this."

"Oh, and I suppose you would be one to judge, Mister-I-threw-a-tantrum-and-threw-away-my-career? "

"Now that's a different scenario entirely," he gets defensive, "I work solo-"

"Well then you of all people should understand, that's exactly what I'm doing right now."

"You're not ready."

"And what, I supposed the League would want to adopt me like an abandoned, sick puppy and teach me a few tricks?" She was joking, of course, still she was caught off guard as she didn't expect him to actually answer that the way he did. Scratching the back of his neck and all. She blanched at the revelation, body language 101 coming in handy.

"Well-"

"You've got to be kidding me. They want to turn me into one of you, after their long and persisting disapproval and now they want me to serve them like they're kings and queens. How daring of them."

"That's how I see it when the Bat and the other big guns asked one of us, namely me since I'm not as much a part of their inner circle anymore to reach out to you. But then, it's either that, then the choice of ending all this that you blatantly and repeatedly rejected, or an ugly night in these streets for you one of these days."

"I'm not trying to be full of myself, but I think I'm more than capable of holding out my own against these thugs."

"What about other dangers?"

"Oh, you mean people wanting to have me for hired gun? Or that so-called league of Arabian assassins trying to get people like me initiated? The blackmailing, the fraud, the killing everyone I might care about part since I'm not wearing a mask?"

Roy nods mutely, though he was secretly taken aback at how much she understood the extent of her doings. He thought she was mindless, a fool, and in reality, she wasn't. She's just indifferent.

"You don't have to worry. Being handled and ordered around, I think you'd already figured out that's not my style. And doesn't mean anyone angry with their past would want to be armed and readied for a war. Sometimes, they're just tired of it all, but they're tied, _addicted_ you can say."

"You're still not right for the job though, you can't argue with that," before she can cut him off, he tells her his judgments, his masked eyes piercing her exposed ones, "You know martial arts, not much of a gymnast but you're a natural at Capoeira, and is that a bit of Savate?"

Her lips were tight, not frowning nor smiling, "More like four years of kickboxing, you smart-ass."

_Doesn't like fancy quips, got it. _Roy dives into the negative then from his conclusive observation, as needed. "You don't have the equipment. I'm betting you're using an old laptop for maps on foreign places and a beaten up police scanner from your neighbor's old truck to get your domestic tips. And when you patrol on your own, you're just relying on instincts. There's no system. No plot, no organized coverage, am I right?"

She shoots this icy gaze that's supposed to make him squirm, but he's not your typical guy, Roy Harper was practically bricks. He takes a twisted kind of humor at this, repeating her words in an ironic foreplay, "Don't even answer that."

She purses her lips, before belligerently telling him in a firm voice, "You could do me the favor of staying the hell out of my way. It's late, and I happen to have a day job as hard as it is for you to believe."

She gives him a numb smile as she began to move, walking away in a stable tempo.

Before she's too far gone though, his hand falls onto her shoulder, striking a nerve that she paused. She was about to award him with a staggering punch to the face, maybe to give him a nasty black eye, as she was tired of being reprimanded by this stranger, let alone the outcast of a hero Red Arrow was. He was as much as a rebel as she is, so those words coming from him had been nothing but uttered hypocrisy.

But then instead of meeting what she expected to be a stern, hostile look on his masculine face, his expression was rather soft. Evident worry ceased his eyebrows.

She brushes his hand away for the appendage to fall limp, and goes on her way. Her steps are heavier somehow and she's upset of the effect he has on her, for she knew exactly what he was trying to get through her thick head, it didn't need to be spoken aloud. She's always known.

_You could get hurt._


	2. Chapter 2: Starts With One

A/N: Gosh, I'm a bit let down that there was no response for the first chapter, but alright, maybe I was moving a bit slow, but still would it kill you guys to spare me your thoughts? I would be most grateful. Oh, and in case you were wondering about the whole 'wait, Roy's a clone!' dilemma, that matter will be put aside for a while. We're still in the whole 'there's a mole on the team' stage, instead of the 'wow, cadmus made a dozen of clones to infiltrate the league' stage. Here's the second bit to the story, enjoy and review please!**  
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**Chapter 2  
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_Starts With One_

"One more mocha, jumbo caramel and three slices of pound cake for table six! Peters, can you get that for me?"

Merely nodding to her boss, as answering would just waste time, she sped through the counter grabbing the orders, putting them on a circular tray to serve.

On her walk, the girl pulled back a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, making a note to re-do her ponytail sometime after this. She'd been running around the kitchen and tables for seven hours now, neglecting her fifteen minute break during lunch to her regret. She was positive she looked as frazzled as someone who got attacked by a bear.

_Well, shit. Get over it. This is the only job you can get without a degree. It's either this or a harlot. Your call._

The young woman made her way to the correct aisle over the semi crowded establishment, once she's reached the table, she graciously bent down to place the food and drinks. _  
_

As opposed to the rather sophisticated gentlemen she's served in the wee hours of the morning, possibly before office hours, the two boys occupying the stall made a contrast. Well one of them, the green eyed ginger certainly did.

He belched loudly, unabashed, and pretending not to have noticed it, she began stacking up the empty plates onto her tray. Her free hand came to the pen latched onto the apron on her skirt, crossing out their delivered orders on the small note taped to the table.

"Anything else I can get you?" She asked, well mannered, despite resisting the urge to insult the freckled teen who ate like a pig, diverting her attention to the dark haired boy seated opposite of him. He was smaller, younger, and had wore sunglasses even indoors, which was strange.

He sipped the mocha politely, before clearing his throat, "No thank you, I think my friend had depleted his allowance by the looks of it."

She managed a friendly smile, as the younger boy paid the tab, "Keep the change."

"Thanks, kid," she told him, before going off, the tray balanced between her hip and arm carefully.

* * *

In controlled, hushed voices, the two boys conversed.

"I don't get why Roy's so caught up with this girl," the Boy Wonder in civvies told his friend, once said girl has went an agreeable distance away, otherwise preoccupied.

The speedster chewed loudly before replying, "She's kind of an enigma."

"Nothing special to me it seems," the thirteen year old replied before being shot an _are you nuts?_ look from the older boy. "Please, West. Anything that moves in a skirt is special to you." _I didn't miss the way you ogled after her legs, lover boy._

Wally shook his head, as he devoured his third plate, before wiping his mouth with a napkin roughly. "Well, Red's gotta think she's got something if he's as determined to have us guard her while he's bugging her place.." He mulled over.

"Point taken," Dick twiddled with his straw before asking, "But if he's so paranoid that she's going to do something stupid, why not have her in the team? It could give her experience, plus Black Canary's been _dying_ to have her own girl, especially one who's normal and fights close range."

The fifteen year old shrugged, pink tongue going over the tip of his index finger, laced in sugar, making a popping sound once he's licked it clean. "Roy got the cold shoulder last night apparently. He's embarrassed to tell me so, but the price of asking yours truly for help involves humiliation, as always."

"So does she feel too good to be in the crew or the other way around?"

"Both, I guess. She wants to be independent but doesn't think she's talented enough. I looked her up from the past yearbooks. She's an outcast, got suspended a few times in her tenth year despite the good grades. And then there's this record of her playing hookie you found this morning in her eleventh year. She's one of those people others don't remember. I bet if I asked the school's faculty, none of them could even recognize her in person."

"She won't be committed then, that's a relief she hadn't join in our ragtag of misfits," the little bird concluded, before switching minds, "But she's got initiative, I gotta admit. She's rusty though-"

"-And she's a _girl!_ Unlike M'gann who's entirely something else, and Arty, the man hands.. she-devil! She is so infuriating! You know she ate my snack bar this morning? I could've been _dying!"_ Wally added, hoping his best friend wouldn't snap a joke or scold him about his relationship with the blonde. The shorter teen only cackled. _Drama queen in denial._

"You're kind of a sexist, dude. I'm still going to have to say that no matter how much I've gotten used to it. Anyways, the whole gender complex thing has nothing to do with this, it's just she doesn't have any superiors and prior training, not an official one anyways," Grayson grumbled to the utmost point of importance, _"And,_ no gear! Plus, Bruce isn't going to be happy if she takes one step a little too far."

"Stop her, then. We've already lost Speedy, we can't lose Roy too just because he's hung over changing this chick's mind. He barely goes out with us these days! I've got an idea! You and Bruce would make the best good cop and bad cop partnership, as if it wasn't obvious," the ginger said it as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"Thing is, if the dynamic duo barged in on her, she might be even less willing or something worse could happen," Dick darkens for a moment. "She has a motive, and if we force the handcuffs on her, she'd go in an entirely different direction. And no one wants that to happen."

Wally slumps on his seat, a goofy smile on his face as he patted his rounded belly, before shooting a sideways glance at the main counter, where a number of employees went about their business, unable to spot the girl, "Shit, I think her shift's over! We better give Roy a heads-up," he urged.

The acrobat grinned, "Well, while you were whining about a rather beguiling lady on our team, I had the common sense to text Roy. He's already in the safe zone since five minutes ago."

* * *

The brunette slipped out of her waitress uniform with a mild sense of gratitude, happy to get the skimpy get-up off her. She dumped the attire in the washer, not bothering to look after it just yet for tomorrow was Sunday and that was her off-day.

In the closure of her apartment, minimalistic but a decent home, the teenager roamed around the carpet only in her tank top and shorts.

"I think I'm more tired from this than last night," she sat on her vanity, taking a fruit scented shower gel she's saved for occasions. Picking up the small bottle, she caught herself staring at the elliptical mirror, pausing as thoughts claimed her. Thoughts of tonight, what she'd have to do starting from eight o'clock up to who knows when.

_ You could use a better life. Why not take up that sponsorship Red Arrow so generously offered you yesterday? It's not too late, and you do know where to find him and give him a 'yes'. Once he's gotten over how rude you were that last time, he'll drag you to the big guys no doubt and they might even welcome you to the family.._

She got up from the small chair to grab a towel on her closet's hangar, hoping the course of movement might distract her elsewhere. _  
_

_And then what? I have to pledge to those stuck ups and do their dirty work? Train for years until they deem me good enough for the field? I don't want that. _

She hastily paced around the room to take a set of clothes for her change after the shower, thinking all the while. _  
_

_You could use the money.. You're already two weeks behind payment for the electricity bill.. You're freezing without that heater working properly!_

She opened the door to the connecting bathroom, clicking on the lights. Quickly undressing, she skipped onto the tub, hoping an old fashioned wash would give her mind a calming, blank state._  
_

Once her eyes had closed under the water in a prayer for serenity, she sensed how her skin had burned under his touch. It was as if the palm of his hands held a pulsating fire beneath it, like a heartbeat in reminiscent of how hers had escalated during that moment.

She pictured him, all dressed for the part of his alter ego.

She knew his tunic was well made, out of a special deflective material, probably kevlar. His pants were also tight, granted, leggings were a part of her costume too and it helped her in the jumps and any sort of flexible moves, but his was rather unnecessarily fitting! She was overreacting, Batman wore spandex too. But somehow she couldn't get over how exposing and flattering Red Arrow's bottom half had been, and that's after she's gotten over his godly biceps. The outline indents of his legs, the muscles on the back of his calves, and his behind!

She couldn't believe it, she'd been imagining his ass for the fun of it.

_Fine, maybe, just maybe.. I'm attracted to that hothead._

She shuddered, gasping for air as she came above the surface, her body rinsed to the finish.

It obviously didn't work as she felt dirtier than ever.

* * *

She read through the pages for the third time, having borrowed the book from the local library three months ago. Yes, the book was long overdue, and she probably wouldn't return it anyway in regards of avoiding the fine. She would have use to the guide too, she needed it, it's taken her long enough to admit that she needed to brush up on unfamiliar grounds to increase resourcefulness.

The thick mass of paperback was titled 'Pressure-point Fighting: A Guide to the Secret Heart of Asian Martial Arts', authored by Rick Clark.

She'd been stalling the task of reading the book, wanting to rely on her own fighting style, it being most comfortable. Unfortunately she came to her senses a few weeks back when she'd skipped her meals and went out for the night, hoping it wouldn't affect her too much.

It was disastrous. From the lack of energy, she couldn't land her usually hard punches, and she almost slipped on that aerial cartwheel, she could've failed in dodging those bullets.

It reminded her that she had to learn other techniques of apprehending her opponents other than powerful physical contact. She had to learn how to be delicate, for her sake.

So that came to her idea of learning strike fighting via pressure points. It was a lot more technical than what she's used to, and maybe that's why she's a bit lazy or perhaps discouraged from studying it firsthand.

But it was now or never though, she's already rundown from her shift today, so tonight she had to pack a different kind of punch to the crowd.

Once confident from her review, the fair skinned girl glanced at the clock nailed to the wall, ten minutes away from the daily starting point.

It was time to suit up.

* * *

It didn't work.

She'd only tried it once, when she went for agility instead of the more frequent force. Her space was limited, it's practically a cage match she participates in every night. If only she had what those heroes had, influences and connections to help her learn hand-to-hand combat formally.

Despite her determination, she'd probably broken four of her fingers from trying it out on a burly man in the docks earlier. The decision earned her a dip in the murky, salty waters of the bay, which is precisely why she was walking home soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her head.

She'd better get warm soon, but unfortunately that's a luxury she cannot afford without a fireplace or a functioning heater, so chicken soup it is. Sounds good enough.

The girl paid no mind to the wet puddles she's made across the floor's hall as she unlocked the door to her domain, it would dry by the morning anyways. She firmly closed it behind her, before reaching towards the right for the switch.

After a few attempts, she was still engulfed in darkness, that she gave up, annoyed. She knew it wasn't a blackout, there was no storm and the other inhabitants of the building had full power wattage, it's just her, and the glitch in her payment. Damn, her and her sorry luck. "Gee, how much worse can this night get?"

"A lot, apparently."

A low, ominous voice answered a distance within the depths of her quarters. She scrambled to the drawer next to her, even though it was dark she knew where she kept her things. Feeling the cold metal, sturdy in her grip, she tensed, prepared for another battle.

After dispatching the guard of her pistol, she aimed for the general direction of his voice, and soon enough he stood, before strutting forward in the living room area, revealing himself.

"Donovan Peters, such a promising pupil I agree," he smirked. The raven haired man was dressed in a semi formal outfit, oddly enough, a white shirt with a black vest jacket and pants, as well as shoes which weren't made for running. He was older than her, but not by much. His demeanor wasn't one to be made light of, he meant business.

"How do you know who I am?"

At the end of his discomforting laughter, she barked, _"How?!"_

"Tsk, tsk. Watch your mouth, girl. You don't know who you're dealing with.. Just listen throughout this quietly, obey and we won't touch a single hair on your pretty little head. Though I've heard, you like the fight, don't you?"

She ignored him. 'We' obviously meant there was more of him. And from the looks of it, she'd bargain, he was a hit man. "I know how to use this gun," she told him, in a cool, leveled tone.

"Adorable," the tall man whipped out his own, and twirled it so casually that it made her feel sick, "But I happen to know how... _better."_

She flexed, ready to press the trigger. He detects it and slides over at the last minute, and her bullet missed, hitting the far wall, probably creating a dent.

"Not bad," he complimented, though she was only as half interested about her unsuccessful shot. "Your aim is good, but your grip, especially after you pressed should be more rigid. It's all in the wrist."

She couldn't care less about this little tutorial from the intruder, she hadn't yet figured out his identity, though deep down, she was genuinely tempted to actually listen for it might be of some help to her in the future.

Angered, she pounced, not caring if she was turning her apartment into a war zone.

The man quickly intercepted her punch with a block before sending his own which she barely blocked. He jabbed for her shoulder, and she twisted to catch him by the elbow. He swept a round kick at her, and she had to release her leverage. Along the one on one combat, the man had intentionally used the gun as an extension of his arm at times, something fresh to see for her eyes as confusing as it had seemed.

She hadn't yet dropped her own gun, having planned to use it to shoot at his feet perhaps.

She's always been full of consequence about the way she fought, but maybe since the man appeared to be anything but, drastic times called for drastic measures.

She kicked at his knee, hoping to get him to drop, but he leaped back over the couch, in the protection of the cushion from her barrage of bullets.

After three shots, she didn't plan to waste anymore ammunition, she lowered the weapon.

Skeptically she stepped forward, jumping over the coffee table, and that's when a hand shot up out of nowhere and grabbed her. She didn't expect the strong pull as it flipped her over to land on her back.

The man rolled over to accommodate himself onto a straddle, his knees on both her sides, as well as pinning her by the hands, and she stared at anywhere but his bottomless coal eyes. The submissive pose made the furious blush crept to her cheeks, her current state of exhaustion as well as being drenched in both her earlier plunge as well as the beads of hot sweat that recently poured over adding into effect. She wasn't fearful, but rather vengeful.

He skimmed over her hands, his own calloused ones tracing over hers in a bewilderingly temperate manner. "Oh, I should've taken your messed up fingers into account. Well then I suppose I do have the time to re-evaluate you.."

"Re-evaluate _this!"_ She sent her knee into his gut, escaping from his hold as soon as he loosened. Kneeling with the wind knocked out of him, she grabbed him by the collar and violently smashed him against the column marking the border of the living area towards her chambers.

He didn't look pained, in fact he grinned, and that's when she decided something was in fact very wrong.

And that's when an unexpected force collided against her, he'd switched their positions, and given the height difference, he had her feet dangling a few inches above ground.

"There are other ways to fight with a gun.. Ever heard of gun fu? Gun kata? Oh, what about the bullet ballet? That's gotta pique your interest," he said in a manner as if they were having tea, which boiled her blood. Regardless, she was unable to get him to release his hands, as the man, though lean had possessed a strength not to be underestimated with.

"I'd rather have you _kill_ me than have you teach me!" She spat. She decided, even the self righteous Justice League was much more humane about their approach, because whoever this man was associated to, they were messed up. And she didn't want to become any part of them.

He laughed, and the air around them, or maybe just her, became suffocating. She struggled to breathe, and that was when she realized, he'd begun strangling her a few moments ago after her outburst.

"Pity, seems like you're not getting what you want tonight. For the rest of your life by your soon to be made contract, you will address me as Alpha," he commanded, lowering her down to set them at eye level.

It didn't matter though, because her vision faltered, and with the ringing in her ears, it was the tell-tale signs of being bound to lose consciousness.

_This is it. They're going to take me. I'm done.  
_

Yet, just before everything faded away, an arrow embedded itself onto the flesh of her captor's wrist as he abruptly dropped her while letting out a short scream, stumbling back by a foot. _  
_

She fell to the floor, regulating her breath with the now unrestricted oxygen. She looked up to the adjacent windows by the far end of her bedroom, unhinged and fractured by its glass, a site where breaking and entering had happened twice in the past few hours to her horror. And surely enough, blocking the path of the night sky's light, casting his own shadow, stood her savior.

Red Arrow.


	3. Chapter 3: Happiness Is Overrated

A/N: Did I mention I feel half dead since there's nothing on this fic? Absolutely nothing. No alerts, no faves, no reviews. I'm kind of disappointed. *sobs* Never mind though, I'm trying to post as many chapters as I can to get this story moving. Have a heart people, review. Oh, and I guess I should mention this, Alpha is not an OC. He exists in the DCU, as an agent of the League of Shadows. He once trained Cass, my baby girl. Just kidding. I'm more of a Babs fan than Cass, and anyways the bat-boys always make 'em second best. Dick, Jay, Tim, and Dami? You cannot expect me to not fangirl over them. Third chapter up! Enjoy!**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 3  
**

_Happiness Is Overrated_

The redhead fired a few more arrows, none of them missed their mark, pinning the man onto the floor by his sleeves and pant leg.

She wasn't going to let him have all the fun though, he was hers to claim. He'd trespassed territory and ransacked her belongings from the looks of it, and she wasn't about to let that kind of injustice get away without a scratch.

She paid no mind to her throbbing windpipe as she crawled over, choking him in return with a deranged cry of her own.

From the corner of her eye, she sensed the archer wanting to stop her, but she shot him a warning look, almost saying _I'm not going to hurt him. Not much. So don't you dare getting in between the two of us.  
_

He understood, and simply approached the two bodies on the floor cautiously, kneeling down on one knee himself for a closer look. Not at the criminal, but on her.

She'd gotten over the initial shock of the ambush rather quick it seemed, but he hadn't yet spot her trembling hands. She looked as if she'd been shipwrecked, so disheveled, but she couldn't care less for her current appearance as she began her interrogation with a new found fervor, her voice as fierce as a wolf's howl.

_"Who are you, and who sent you?!"_

The man cringed under the pressure of her elbow on his neck, but other than that he was in no real pain. Roy inspected the one arrow that lodged itself onto him, it had resulted in bleeding, but it was minor, treatment was uncalled for, especially for this menace.

The navajo recognized him to begin with, the gun play was a familiar sight, and when he said his signature code name _Alpha_, it clicked. Researching the Shadows database to no end definitely paid off. And West said he became a loner for nothing. Screw him.

Alpha cracked up, gaining the attention of the other two people in the room with him.

"And to think _you_ could be a freelance assassin was a mistake, remind me again to never speak up against the demon's head and his instructions, he certainly knows best," he was being awfully cryptic, but Roy was able to translate him just fine.

"Ra's Al Ghul assigned you to capture her and then-"

"-Teach her the finer crafts of killing, boy. Isn't it obvious?" Alpha turned to gaze at the seething young woman still locking his throat, and chuckled, "Though I'm starting to believe Shiva would be a better fit of a mentor for you with the way you've handled me just now."

Honey brown eyes widened, before whom they belonged to clarified, "At least she uses her hands, and not a wimp's tool like you do. Point is, I'm not a piece of your master's chess game, and you can't make me."

"Time is a powerful friend, and it happens to be on our side whereas it's your enemy. Tell me, if your burglar alarm had actually worked, would I be able to actually come into your apartment, unannounced and taken you down by surprise?"

She didn't reply, he takes this as a stupendous check-mate for himself.

"You're blinder than a shark. You need the help, kid. You're falling back on cash and you've got nowhere to go, no one who cares."

_"Please,_ what do you know about family?" She taunted. Murderers don't get that blessing. Ever.

"Enough to know that they stay united, and you'll have nothing to worry about if you follow on my footsteps," Alpha insisted, fully confident.

She doesn't have it in her to look at her rescuer, for she knew her face was a picture of mock uncertainty, weakness.

He takes control once more, his tone of pure justification, "She doesn't need you, Sommers. She's fine on her own, and if not, the League will welcome her with open arms."

She whipped towards him, eyes fixated on his covered ones, their color remaining a mystery. Her gaze intensifies. _Don't you start with it. I'm not going to be working for him, and I'm surely not going to work with you. Even if you did save my ass.  
_

Roy doesn't budge, and instead continues to speak for the fuming girl, "Either way, if it's a benefactor she needs - it's not going to be someone from people like you."

Alpha shows a hint of admiration, "Nice work, sidekick, you actually know my alias. Not much of a surprise though given the leech of a cat I work with. I heard she has a soft spot for you."

_Who is he talking about?_ The unsigned vigilante thought, confused for once.

Roy stiffened, yet kept his cool, stating, "Cheshire and I have nothing but animosity. She tried to put a knife in me on a weekly basis, remember?"

"I suppose that's true," the man whose surname was Sommers agreed. "However you must be in way over your head if you think you can actually save this _hopelessly_ lost soul here.."

He referred to her, and she grew vicious, her patience running thin, hissing, "You better watch what you say. You seem to have forgotten that you're in no position to crack jokes. In fact, you should be worrying about that collar bone of yours I can crack if your words doesn't suit my liking."

Michael would've called her on a bluff, but she seemed too sober on her words. Instead he goes for another angle, a rather distracting one, in the pursuit of borrowing time, as a good judge of character.

"You've got a good friend here, doll." She didn't even need to register who he meant by that, she knew already, and decided to hold in her scornful ridicule of said statement. _He? My friend? This guy's clearly smacked his head on the floorboards too hard. _

"He still defended you, and even when you're chasing him off, he hasn't left you.. _yet."  
_

She didn't know why the particular set of words left a sense of anxiety in her abdomen, like she didn't want to be abandoned, like she didn't want to face anymore of the man's kind by herself.

"You know he might not be here next time.." He reminds her, his words a tainted whisper.

Would she be strong enough to defeat them? Or maybe good enough to run away?

Both options unsettled her, she felt incapable of doing either no matter how hard she strives. Her hunters, at least that's a fitting phrase to term them, would be relentless. They'd succeed and finish the job.

"Whatever happens tonight, the ending to this tragic little story is inevitable. And, you know? I've been told I'm an excellent teacher, especially when I'm given such a dedicated student such as yourself.."

And.. she wouldn't have any say in what she'll become if they ever got their hands on her. She'd be just like them. Monsters.

"What do you say, _Nova?"_

She raised an eyebrow. _No one's ever called me that in ages._

For a moment, as she contemplated, the ticking of the clock serenaded her in an andante, before it stopped completely, deafened in her ears as she answered in one exhale, "No."_  
_

"Your loss then."

Had her eyes not betray her, she would've seen that one of his arm came free before, the arrow only pinning a teared fabric piece from his shirt, and he'd been holding his gun the entire time. But they did, and so she forced herself to move on impulse, arguably faster than her average speed as he fired.

_"No!"_

She only hoped it hadn't been too late.

* * *

Roy watched the less than amiable exchange between Donovan and Michael with a forlorn look etched on his face. Honestly he wasn't feeling too comfortable ever since he'd stop intervening somewhere in between as Michael began sinking his hooks in.

The man was manipulative, and he had a way with words.

If he'd been in her shoes, he would be rather uneasy as well.

He'd kept himself quiet because she'd been rather absolved in her methods, and it was a stark image he'd been at the end of her s_tay out of this!_ mindset.

"What do you say, Nova?"

Sommers asked for the final time, making use of her nickname in a rather careless manner. The person in question hid her revulsion for the forced coercion, finding the only way to express it by a minute quirk of her eyebrow. And then she answered, eyes unyielding.

"No."

And that's when the trigger man pulled out his last resort. Roy was slightly ashamed for having forgotten to clear the assassin away for any weapons as he's presumed he'd dropped everything in the ruckus, a wrong assumption apparently, but the diversion isn't one to mull over now.

"Your loss then."

He's too dumbstruck to take in that he's the one held at gun point, if only for a millisecond, and then the bullet went flying.

"No!"

A weight purposely tackled him to the side, and it was none other than her, who'd push him aside from the line of fire. She quickly got herself off of him, not sparing any eye contact, and he did too for the sake of their common enemy.

Michael had rolled to stand up, having taken off the projectiles pinning him to the ground. He took a stance, gun clicking beneath his fingers.

_Get a grip, Harper!_ The marksman drew his bow, and not letting the man make another move, he fired a flurry of arrows.

The assassin tumbled, and jumped across surfaces to avoid each incoming hit. They missed him, but only by a narrow break.

She also shot at him with her good arm, a few bullets coming dangerously close to her potential trainer. He's beginning to look like he's having a hard time now, and Roy takes his cue to close the distance when he's preoccupied.

The back of his bow slammed across his jaw, and the older man reeled back from disorientation. Roy was about to give him a blow across the head, but he'd dodge it, and discreetly popped his gun low.

He fired at the archer's knee.

_If he uses a cane his whole life, it's on you. Go, go, go!  
_

Her heart pounding in her chest, she flipped out her pistol and pressed the trigger in a moment of desperation, her whole arm stoic for accuracy. Her bullet precisely struck the end of the other wielder's muzzle, and it backfired onto him in a small explosion. Alpha's fingers were instantly stained in his own blood, and he cursed, dropping the now useless firearm.

After staring at his crimson hand, he graced her a venomous peer, "Now you've made this personal, Peters."

Roy was prepared to shoot, his fingers notched and curled around the arrow tip by the arc of string. Glowering, he didn't wait for any orders, and since his would be victim played dirty too, he released the arrow without much remorse. _I think you've made it personal the moment you came after her at her own place in the middle of the night._

Despite his current state, Michael quickly composed himself, a hazard smile tugging at his lips. "Until next time, then."

A mock salute, and then the man made a bolt for the window, a rain of a dozen bullets and half a dozen arrows unable to reach him, as his two pursuers simultaneously ran behind him, hot on his heels, shooting all the while.

Roy made it first to the framed aperture, scrutinizing everything outside like a hawk. She couldn't blame him, she'd be just as paranoid, or maybe even worse.

"He's gone," he pronounced, not sounding half miffed, but rather almost completely used to it. Cheshire got away from him constantly, her trail untraceable, who's to say Alpha couldn't accomplish the same?

She's silent, so he turns to her, apprehensive. "You alright?"

He glanced at her left shoulder, a trail of blood gushed over the thin sleeve, staining it maroon. She firmly pressed at the area to stop the flow, wincing almost inaudibly, but he doesn't miss it, spotting the way her vermillion lips had quaked.

"I've taken worse," she admitted, flexing her arm for good measure although it hurt like hell. "You can go now," she paused, beaming at him awkwardly, shifting on her toes a bit, "Um, thanks."

He can't help it when the the smug pride slithers inside, gnawing at him to boast for once in a while, before he registers the fact that she's shooing him away. Less crudely but all the same. Stubborn girl. "I'm not done yet. Let me take you somewhere safe."

She pouts, "I say you are. Now you are going to let me escort you through my front door, hell I'll even give you the satisfaction of having me hop in that stuffy elevator with you. Bottom line, just leave."

"And just what are you going to do next, then? Go back upstairs and rot by your lonesome in the dark?"

"I'm planning to catch on some sleep, jerk," she crossed her arms, at cross with her last guest.

He stomped past the debris, and towered over her, hoping the rule of height difference will settle in. "Listen," he's awfully forward, but he just has to force this on her skull, turning a little rough, "Are you literally _that_ dumb? You must be begging for someone else to pull this kind of crap on you. You're unprotected, and with that wound, you're not going to last half as long as you did just now."

It's like he's talking to a brat. An astonishingly strong-willed and vivacious one.

Nova clenched her teeth. _He's trying to get me to let my guard down. To trust him._ _Well, that's only going to happen over my dead body._

"It's superficial. And _shit,_ is this your way of guilt tripping me? After you saved me then you want to pull on the fences just to make me feel secure? Oh, I get it! It's another ploy so I'd play by your rules! Get this, Red, I don't need your charity!" She panted.

Voices in her head disagreed, they brought her to dawn upon the harsh truth. _Then again, you know he's right. They'll be coming after you sooner or later. It may not be a written guarantee, but Alpha had practically promised it.  
_

Oppositely, Roy didn't give away any emotion, only taking a deep breath. What a professional prick.

"No, I'm doing this 'cause it's right. You got hurt shielding me, I owe you one. And you _hate_ loans, right? What better way to have me pay up than now?"

_It's like he's reading my mind._ She fussed, half terrified that the hero was able to do so, before examining the remnants of her apartment. _I better get this over with then. The sooner he's done with me, the sooner I can fix this shack. Plus, the sooner he'd be out of my hair.  
_

"Fine, lead the way," she gave up, exasperated, already enviously imagining the joyous bells ringing in his head._  
_

"Come here," he tugs at her hand like a chain, and she felt it again. The way their skin had brushed before he clasped her wrist was.. _electrifying._ Thank goodness his back was turned on her, or he would've gained the wondrous privilege of seeing her rosy cheeks. She'd be a disgrace.

He lets go of her when they reach the gaping hole that's her window, and then he shot an arrow. It whizzed in the air with a taut cable following behind, immediately latching itself between the two far points, his target and where they lie now, as their route.

He slings the middle of his bow to hang onto the rope, and she knew what he was doing, she's seen it plenty of times. _Show-off._

He timidly instructed her to hold onto him, her arms looped around his neck. He didn't mind the way her side flushed against his, the curve of her hip sliding over his torso. She hid how nervous she was, and went with it, as naturally as she could.

He didn't need to count to three to warn her, as the twitch of the corner of his lips was enough of a warning to begin with.

In one swift motion they leaped out, noiselessly sweeping through the skyline in a straight path. Startled by the rush of cold wind, she unconsciously buried herself in his chest for a melee protection.

Within his arms, he finds her glazed eyes, clouded and withdrawn. Roy steadies his hold on her, mindful of her injury, having his hand placed in the small of her back, and chuckles heartily.

_You're not so tough now, are you?_


	4. Chapter 4: Too Close

A/N: You know I got caught up with Mary Sue online tests, lol. I was just taking a few precautions about my OC, hoping I didn't do her wrong. Good news though, seems that from the four (very long) tests I've taken, they've given me the indication I'm able to accept. She's decent, alright to go. So viola! Here's the fourth chapter, enjoy and review please! **  
**

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**Chapter 4  
**

_Too Close  
_

Red Arrow's place isn't quite what she had expected. For starters, it looks perfectly normal. Like it didn't belong to one of Star City's most ambitious heroes.

It was a sizable apartment with a private bedroom (she has a nagging suspicion it was a large master, oh, how jealous she'd be if it were true), a secluded bathroom by the entrance's hall from the outermost door, a cozy living space which is connected with the pantry and dining area.

She's pretty impressed about his taste in furniture, for she had a clue of their general prices range, which was high. Whatever the boy earned apart from lodging arrows in his night time impromptus, it was working well for him.

She's sitting on a bar stool by his kitchen counter, tapping her heel impatiently in the wait, as she was ordered to sit still by the young man. She remembered him winking, at least that's what she gathered from the movement of his mask, upon the instruction just to get a rise out of her. _Don't want you getting bloodstains all over my carpet._

She wanted to stick her tongue out at him like some kid, or call bull on him which was the more preferred option, for the bleeding had stopped since ten minutes ago when they'd been climbing the emergency stairs to his floor.

_You lied to me, Red! The freaking seventh floor?! You told me it was the fourth!_

_What? You want me to carry you, princess?_

She kept her mouth shut after his jest of a question despite the fact that her legs felt like snapping, she wouldn't let him see she'd been washed up to the drain. She'd show him just how well she could move.

Still, as for the present, it might do her some good if she followed his advice. It'd been a long day, and certainly the events occurring in the past five hours had taken a toll on her, consumed her. Yet, she's still a bit jumpy so being glued to a chair isn't exactly the best idea for her rattled mind.

Anyhow, she couldn't disobey him, and as much as she loved seeing him fretting over her disrespect, it just wasn't the right time given the situation. How he'd taken her in and all. She felt rather helpless, like a puppet on a string, whereas Roy paced around freely in the modest space, gathering a white box from a cupboard which she could only presume to be the first aid kit.

He opened the container as he soundly set it down on the cool marble, and she was proven correct. He began taking the necessary tools, laying them out carefully.

He took a pair of tweezers and she stiffened before rolling her eyes in defeat, "Go ahead."

He hesitated, but at her nudging became considerably more assured, dipping the metallic tongs onto the open cut within her skin, beginning the dig. She flinched, before turning away to focus on other things other than the pain. Like where the redhead possibly kept his secret stash of equipment. _Where would the ultimate hiding spot be?_

Roy remained oblivious to her inner mischief, concentrating on his hopefully qualified attempt at playing doctor.

The bullet must've penetrated deeper than he thought as it took quite some time for him to latch onto it. Roy inwardly cursed. _Probably from all that moving. Should've taken it out to begin with before we headed here._

"Good news," his voice alerted her as she twisted her neck to meet him, "I think I've got it."

"Then what are you waiting for? Some kind of a sign?"

He coughs, swallowing the comment, for if they bickered right now, it'd get them nowhere._ Damn, you're moody._

He's just going to break it down to her like he did when he fixed up Wally on his first week as Kid Flash, since super healing unfortunately didn't give the boy a free pass for ammo fishing whenever he got hit, how he would've exploit that gift if he had it! Roy clicks his tongue, "It's gonna hurt like _bitch_ when I pull it out."

"Try me," she puts on a front of fake delight, craning her neck at him rather invitingly, though she dreaded what's about to come next. She just wanted to get it over with, like most things in her life.

At her urging, he clipped and then tugged, giving it a few tweaks to not scab the meat inside, and soon the pea sized lead material was retrieved. He wipes the blood on it with a piece of tissue, before stylishly flicking the small missile like a spitted out cherry pit onto the bin.

Nova would've laughed at his antics, if he weren't.. _him._

At a side glance, he might've seen a change of expression in her face, one he's rather curious of but in the end he disregarded it without much thought. He reached forward to take out a ball of cotton and a small vial of rubbing alcohol which was half full for disinfection, carefully pouring a number of drops to moisten the white twill as needed.

He reaches up, and she swept her hair over to one side to make way. He gently nabs on the shoulder wound, slowly, careful to not crush the teared skin. After he was sure it was spotless, he grabbed a sterile needle and thread, biting it off with his teeth, not wanting to go through the trouble of looking for a pair of scissors. Her eyes wandered over to the objects in his hands, hardening.

"I told you I can do that by myself," she told him for the umpteenth time. She'd demanded that of him over and over in the time span they've been alone inside his flat.

The archer sighs, "And what? Take another hour to sew yourself up with one good arm? I don't think so.."

_You may not see it right now but you're a lot like me. Not knowing when to accept someone's help. Always too prideful. Even when you know you're at the edge, on your limit. God, Dinah must've gotten her panties in a bunch for me back then.  
_

Her mouth opened to retort, but he beats her to it. "I don't want to hear another word of it. You're _shaking_, for crying out loud! You're in no shape to actually try that out to prove me wrong. _Don't- don't_ be an idiot."_  
_

She frowns, before nodding quietly, "Alright, you win. Just make it quick."

"As you wish," he replied, before proceeding to stitch her wound closed.

* * *

The silence was unbearable, she couldn't hold it in much longer, gracelessly blurting out, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Roy, who'd been in the process of clearing away the medical supplies, stopped in his tracks, thinking out his words carefully. "I- _uh,_ you- you _needed_ it. You do. You were alone and could barely defend yourself. I couldn't just leave. It's wrong. "

She shot him a skeptical look, not buying the explanation.

He disposed of the kit back to where he had originally stored it, before strolling back to the counter, grabbing a stool for himself. He inched closer to her seat, hands propped on his knees, wanting to make this personal. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

Her elbow rests on the table, supporting her chin. She can't help sounding a bit coy when she asks him back, "Why should I?"

"Other than the fact I brought you here instead of a public hospital or better yet to the League, _and_ patched you up like some nurse-"

"I didn't _ask_ for any of that! You can't pull those cards on me!"

Scowling from her response, his voice began to raise.

"You didn't have to! Can't you just honestly believe that some, _okay,_ correction; a few people out there aren't actually entirely selfish?! That they're capable of looking out for others other than themselves?! Why is that _so hard_ for you to imagine?"

She bit her lip, eyes downcast. Looks like she didn't want to talk, he knew his words must've been harsh, but it was called for and it's realistically justified, so be it. All the more talking for Roy.

"You must be _crazy_ if you think all of this-," he swiped a hand at her now treated injury - all thanks to him, glad he hadn't smacked it instead for his work would come undone, for he was sure he's gradually losing his temper, "-is just my way of accomplishing any ulterior motive you're accusing me of."

He leaps out of his seat, pushing the lanky stool with the back of his hand for it to knock acutely against the counter. Nova awakens at this, visibly stunned, her eyes trailing at his form in vague fascination. He trudges out of the pantry, sparing one last, long look at her.

"Now if you're so _sick_ of my hospitality, I'm fairly certain you know where's the exit!"

The volume of his voice had escalated beyond his grasp, beyond any semblance of control, and he'd realized he'd crossed a line. He hadn't been aware of what he was saying, the true meaning of it all. He'd just kicked her out, he took it in with a jolt. And after all the trouble he went through to drag her inside in the first place, it would all be worthless.

He pales, stuttering, _"Shit. I- I_ didn't mean it to come out that way."

The girl uncrossed her slim legs, moving to stand upright to her full height before taking the steps that put them face to face. She's half a head shorter than him, but he felt his toes curling anyway as if under the Batglare. He felt like blowing chunks.

She chewed on her bottom lip again, thankfully not drawing any blood upon his inspection, before she stops, the emotion in her eyes unreadable.

Roy prepared himself. There were two options.

One; she'd slap him in the face.

Two; she'd stab him with the pocket knife she's slipped inside her right boot.

Neither were wanted since they both would end with her walking away from him. He anticipated her course of movement, but was shocked at what she did, or rather said next, his expression of pure incredulity. It'd be rather priceless if a certain Boy Wonder had installed cameras and recorded, no, photographed this particular shot of him.

_"I'm sorry."_

The whites of his mask stretched a bit, it was a rather dull and easily missed displacement so she thought he hadn't heard her.

"I said I'm sorry."

She'd been far too cynical, it was beyond reason that she actually felt ashamed of the way she acted. She must've forgotten what he did for her when it all began. He'd saved her from what could possibly be a successful kidnapping, continued with a forced and permanent allegiance to an organization of assassins.

He'd saved her from.. well, essentially.. _death._

Roy's still mute, knowing the look on her face. She's struggling to tell him something. And she's not one to struggle for speech so it must be a matter of honor, one that she doubted to speak of.

_"And I- I_ want to say _thank you,"_ she suddenly finds his feet interesting, typical, but then she surprised him again by going the high road and locking eyes with him, her words are slow but that's what makes it all the more clear for his ears, "Thank you for helping me out with Alpha, _and_ the wound.. _And_ the shelter.."

Roy beams at her, his demeanor changing completely, no longer spiteful as his words rolled down his tongue with relaxed ease, "That's more like it."

Though a truce was reached, it didn't stop her from wrinkling her nose, though it's more flippant and playful than anything else.

"But this is a one-time thing only. Don't you forget that, _Speedy."_

Instead of getting stirred up from the small ruse like she initially predicted, his grin just broadens. She drew out a breath she hadn't know she'd been holding, simply one thought running through her head._  
_

_You're different than how I thought you'd be._

* * *

She creeps out of the shower with her hair half dry, but peers in once more to make sure that all her clothing articles and belongings were piled neatly atop the small dresser in the washroom. She'd rinsed them along her bath, and though they were wet once more at least they were clean.

She tiptoed across the hall, barefoot, her entrance immediately grabbing his attention. The blue jersey which once belonged to him sometime in high school hung loose over her shoulders. But she's wearing a sports bra underneath it so he doesn't really have to worry about plunging necklines or the sort. _  
_

As for bottoms, she's wearing one of his navy boxers as shorts since he guessed any of his legitimate trousers would've fell to the floor with that tiny waist of hers. He supposed, she didn't look half bad. _Now you're a sight for sore eyes._

She plopped onto the couch next to him, pulling her legs up Indian style as she rocked on them a bit childishly. "Thanks for lending me these," she referred to the spare change he'd tossed inside when she'd been nude and only wrapped in a towel a few minutes ago.

"No problem," he replied offhandedly, flipping on the television channels about eight times with the remote, before settling on a news coverage program hosted by the blonde reporter, Cat Grant. _  
_

Nova comes to see that it wasn't only her who had a wardrobe change. Red Arrow was finally out of costume, in casual civilian clothes which was comprised of a button down polo and baggy trainers. She assumed he'd wear them to bed, and if not, he'd probably sleep half naked or even completely, it's quite a common habit amongst his gender.

The domino mask was replaced by a pair of darkly tinted glasses. It wasn't as pitch black as the one that belonged to the ebony haired boy from the diner this morning, it was translucent but it still did well to conceal him. She's positive the archer didn't have eye troubles, with the way he aimed like a pro and all, so it must've been a cautious procedure to not as easily reveal who he was. And really, there's no downside about wearing a designer made custom.

He notices her lingering stare and gets up, sauntering past her into the kitchen area. He calls for her once he's opened the half stocked fridge, inspecting what he could offer her, "Do you want anything? Beer? Coke? Juice?"

"Beer's fine," she answered him from the four meters distance. He grabs two cans, throwing one at her which she caught expertly. He seats himself comfortably once more on the cushion, opening the drink with his thumb. Beside him, the girl took a short gulp at her own can.

It gets awkward about ten seconds later.

Even though they've made amends, and Roy's rather forgiving about her previous behavior, they'd be lying if they said they couldn't hear the noise of the nonexistent crickets chirping.

She senses this too, fumbling with her words. He's glad at least she's not so aloof anymore about their reality. "Listen, I don't really want to talk about the terms and conditions of our.." She trails off, not knowing exactly what to call what they really have together by, searching for the right title to no end.

"Acquaintanceship," he offered, and she nods, unsure, setting the tinfoil cylinder on his coffee table. "Yeah, but I-"

"-You said you didn't want to talk about it, so you don't have to and I'm not forcing you to do anything," he doesn't want to make her feel like she's oppressed, she's a free bird no matter the circumstance, but he'd just like her to nest, just this time because it's what's best for her safety. He's finished his beer, crushing the can effortlessly within his fingertips, before dumping it into the garbage across the room, leaning back again. "But it'd be better if you stay here for time being. Or at least find a new place for yourself. They know where you live, your old den isn't going to cut it anymore."

It's true, and she's not going to deny his claims, so she just chugged more of the booze, her drink now half empty. "God, I hate it when you're right," she slumps back, her tone sour but he detected the twinge of fondness in it. He chuckles.

She stopped inspecting his ceiling for chipped paint to address him deliberately. And then she shoved him, "You _dick!_ You're laughing at me!"

Despite the frontal assault, she's more peeved than actually full blown outraged. He laughs harder at her expense, and that's when the red in her face becomes peculiar, her advances dying out. She looks torn. Between what, he doesn't know.

It's a different kind of silence then that engulfs them both for a few moments.

"It's late," he began, shutting the television off, clearing his throat, "You should probably get some sleep."

He hands her a blanket, it wasn't quite like the duvet on his mattress next door, but it would have to do. He doesn't have to think to know she'd put up a fit if he were to give any implication, no matter how subtle, about sharing a bed together.

He considered it at first, since her shoulder probably wouldn't enjoy his sofa as much as an actual bed, but she seems strong enough. She'd even almost hurl him over at one point. And he's so darn tired of arguing, another battle of wits with her would probably send him to an asylum.

She seems grateful of the comforter, unfolding it in her hands once she's gotten it.

He pats the cushion, rising on his feet, before he leaves for his room.

Nova looks at the teal sheets, it was an old thing, but it was hygienic, and a thoughtful guise for someone like him. She's ridden with guilt as she watched his retreating back. _Say something! The least you could do is bid him goodnight.._

_"Hey, uh, good-_ goodnight," she called just as his hand touched the doorknob for entry. _  
_

He veered, his profile if not three-fourths of his face coming into view. "Roy," he says easily.

_What was he-_

"Call me Roy."

It was unreal. He'd just told her his secret identity. She figured he probably thought it was fair given that he already knew hers. But still, she didn't expect him to just willingly sell himself out. But no. He laid himself bare. No riddles.

She runs a hand through her hair absentmindedly, still surveying his _mask_ before deciding to give it up altogether. There was no mask. "Goodnight then, _Roy."_

"You too," he parts then with a warm smile, gone within moments behind another door that soundly sealed shut.

Only then she laid back, dispersing the length of her body equally, still very much dazed from his final actions. Sighing, her eyes fluttered closed, her heavy heart unwittingly sinking into the world of dreams.


	5. Chapter 5: Somewhere Only We Know

A/N: As you know, to my grief, Young Justice has ended, and it ended on a rather depressing note; KF dead, Artemis closing in on herself and Dick depressed as hell.. there's way more to add to the list. Oh and yeah, the only Roy time I get now is from the live action series, Arrow where he's played by the smokin' Colton Haynes (who plays Jackson Whittemore on Teen Wolf - a show I'm rather obsessed with) - too bad he's not an archer.. yet. Here is chapter five, enjoy (apologies in advance for the delay)! Review please!**  
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**Chapter 5  
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_Somewhere Only We Know  
_

Roy's finishing his third mug of coffee by the time she enters the kitchen again. One leg on his knee, he examined today's newspapers articles with little to no interest, skimming over them somewhat carelessly.

If she was going to warn him he might get a caffeine overdose, he'd just give her that smug smirk, and tell her the _No, I'm a little stronger than that, don't you think? _But apparently that's not what's on her mind right now so he holds his tongue.

"You're seriously not going to tell me where did you get these?" She asked as she did an experimental twirl on the outfit.

"Nope," the redhead made a popping sound at the letter 'p'. She rounded to her rear, smoothing over the fabric of the body contour dress. She had nothing to wear, aside from her costume, _I suppose it's not that bad, but then again, shouldn't I feel concerned that the guy I'm staying with keeps women's clothing in the back of his wardrobe? Then again he's not an average, typical guy._

He sees that her head is in the clouds somewhere, so he's amused, wanting to make it clear. "I swear it's not a hooker's. Even if I do sleep around I don't keep souvenirs. It's not sentimental, it's downright _gross."_

Nova stifles a feminine scoff at this, not believing it entirely, but letting it go. "I suppose it's your mother's then and she'd have the body of a god to pull off a size two.."

He sets the papers aside, securing his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a finger. He inhales, "Actually it's sort of true. That thing belongs to the girlfriend of my guardian."

Let's just say, Dinah and Ollie had borrowed the apartment when they wanted to get away from all the rascals of the League members. Against Roy's approval of course. He often complained on how the hell did his place became a stop for the casual late night hook ups, but then he just dealt with it.

Anyhow, after the adolescent made it clear that his living space should only be left to his devices (he made a rather clear demonstration that he could get a flock of girls in bed with him, no strings attached), his guardians had indeed gotten rid of said intrusion, not wanting to witness a taste of their own medicine.

So Dinah's dress had only been a reminder of the past.

The brunette shifting on her toes seemed to catch herself as she teased him with very subtle snark.

"Of course, one of Oliver Queen's many ladies," she commented. When he'd told her his name, it didn't take long for her to figure out he was the ward to Star City's resident billionaire.

Calmly, he folded the papers before getting on his feet. He's already dressed and good to go, in a sporty jacket, jeans and trainers. Granted he hadn't waited longer than to his liking, the girl was actually very quick at preparing herself for the day, taking less than fifteen minutes, but still he was the winner.

And like the winner he is, Roy was impatient, "You finished?"

He's dumbstruck when he sees that she's already out the door, her boots smoothly clicking against the floor as she walked. Slamming the door of his apartment shut, he jogged, catching up with her as they rode down the elevator.

* * *

"That was a surprisingly productive morning," she stated, sounding evidently pleased. By ten o'clock she'd gotten most of her errands done.

She'd closed off the deal to her apartment without any loans, had basically shipped her things to Roy's for the moment, and quit her job since the diner counts not showing up as fired. She had a feeling she wasn't going to get that raise they discussed last week anytime soon anyways.

"Your landlady was also surprisingly easy to charm," Roy commented as he re-read the lease contract perched on her lap, angling his head to the side to do so.

_"Charm?_ More like bribe," she scoffed. "You shoved triple my rent into her skirt pocket!"

The redhead sighed, "I thought we got over this half an hour ago when you agreed _my_ arrows did more damage to the place than your bullets making me partially if not more responsible in sweet-talking Mrs. Dasher.."

She shook her head, still at odds with how the young man operated in his life. Must've been nice to have a wad of cash to pull out a shortcut to everything whenever it gets difficult.

He notices her fall in emotion, "Now what are you so glum about?"

"Nothing," she lied, before strategically distracting him elsewhere to make him let it go. "You know she almost had a heart attack when you grabbed her, right?"

"I suspected it," came the casual response. She laughs.

This sort of outing, sitting in the park's bench on the most relaxed Sunday she's ever had with the one guy she somehow boldly handed her trust to wasn't expected at all. But nonetheless, she didn't have any regrets.

The wind carried the sound of laughter, and surely she could spot a group of children playing tag by the grassy hills.

"Don't you miss it?"

She felt, rather than saw how Roy knew what she was staring at. "Define what do I miss," she challenged, pretending not to understand.

"The part where you get to stay with a family, where you don't have to be this loner shut-in in town-"

"Wait, did you just call me a loner?" She glared inquisitively, meeting his eyes. They were blue, so very blue.

"Yeah I did," he snorts, "Your profile and records are about as short as that of an undercover government agent. I don't know whether to find that impressive or worrying."

"You're exaggerating," she waves him off. Roy's smolder hardens and she surrenders, _"Okay_ so maybe you're not.. But there's no bad side to laying low, I don't have time to make friends, let alone hangout with some at pubs or malls, all that ordinary stuff. I don't think I'm missing out on anything other than falling prey to the American lifestyle, really."

He doesn't give it up, his voice unnaturally distant. "Imagine this though, just try.. If you were an ordinary waitress working at that diner, I might have hit on you when I order coffee like some normal guy and we could've met.. _differently."_

_Like I didn't have to send two of my buddies to help me watch out for you while I set up security cameras on all points of entry to your place like some creepy stalker or on-call police._

She answers him slowly, "And I suppose you'd want that."

The archer has a moment of imagination rather than recollection and shared his thoughts without much caution, preferring to dish out the whole truth he pictured, "No, not really. You'll probably pour a mug of hot coffee down my pants if I insinuate such a thing."

"You got that right," she remarked.

"But do tell me. Why do you do it?" His posture sags a bit, hunching forward in mild interest.

"You mean busting my ass out every night on the streets?" She offers him in this as a matter-of-fact manner, that he has to wince a little at her bluntness. "Yeah, all that jazz.."

She clicks her tongue dispassionately, "It's not an interesting story to tell. Believe me you wouldn't want to hear it."

"I'm a fan of sob stories, I live for it actually," Roy points out, promoting his listening ear. "Humor me."

Her face momentarily scrunches up in unwillingness, before she shakes her head and speaks, her voice straining oddly, almost tumultuously. "Fine," a pause, "Though right now, I'm not ready to divulge all of the details so I'll tell you in spades."

The young man's perfectly fine with that, though he hoped that at their prolonged camaraderie, she'll someday be less reluctant. "Go on."

"I did _things_ I'm not proud of in my past."

_Well that was terribly vague,_ he butchered unhelpfully. He gathers his most unassuming expression, "Define how did you make a mistake." He stutters, praying to the heavens he wasn't crossing the lines with this next one, "Did- did you- I'm sorry, killed someone? Accidentally perhaps in self defense?"

"No!" She objects quickly, her pitch rising before it drops rather low when she says, "No, I haven't slipped like that." _Not yet at least,_ she grumbles internally.

Roy reacts rather fluently, his tone warmly assuring, "And you won't have to. You _can_ avoid it, repair it even if you did."

She bites her lip, sighing regrettably for reasons he doesn't understand. He will in a moment. She doesn't bark this out, but she might as well should. "Some of us aren't that lucky to be able to zigzag through the repercussions of committing things like that, Roy. Let alone avoid doing it in the first place entirely."

He softens then but his eyes continued to harshly pierce through hers, "So what is it then that you've done? What exactly made you, no, _force_ you to wanting to go out bargaining your lifeline like that every night?"

Even though this conversation was threatening to rub on old wounds, she managed to pronounce; "I've hurt the people who were once close to me. People I actually care for."

"So you.." Roy trails off uncomfortably, she spares him the distress when she clarifies it clearly, "I shut them out before I ran off. You do realize I live alone, right?" A peculiar, expectant look is etched on her features as she asked him.

"Yeah," he replies clumsily, "And your foster family, the Carters, where are they?"

She'd admit she was a bit flattered that he knew of her background so deeply. Little to no surprise twinged her speech, "Oh, you did your homework. You knew I was adopted."

Oppositely, the young hero looked a tad bit perplexed at her choice of tenses. "Was?"

"I'm not with them anymore," she tells him, a little unconvincingly if to portray it'd been a simple decision she had fun in making. It definitely wasn't, but she's not struggling, at least it appears that she isn't, casual and all. "They're in Keystone I think, that is if they didn't move."

So Wally's info was in fact correct. He had doubts about relying on the speedster because he's not exactly Mr. Enlightening Perspective when it comes to shady upperclassmen. But then again, the kid did love older women and recon work. In respect for the latter though, he hadn't been as gleeful as Robin would.

"That explains why you kept your original last name instead," he concludes. She nods at his accurate comment. "Yeah."

"Why did you leave them?" The words travel out of his mouth faster than a moving train before he knows it. He had to know more, he just had to.

Nova shrugs coarsely as she reprimanded him. "That's a story for another time, Roy. You've been pushing it already."

He's aware of how unusually lucky he is with her today, she hasn't snap at him at all, and realizes that it was time to back down. Temporarily.

He draws a breath, before exhaling, "Alright. So, what is it then that you're looking for in the crime-fighting life?"

The girl rolls her eyes at this, he's switching topics, but not straying away as far as she'd prefer him to, and it's both really tactless of him and endearing at the same time. She suspects he'll eventually hold her at arrow point to confess when he can't wait any longer.

Roy feebly justifies himself, "It still doesn't make sense that you're doing what you're doing to me."

"Believe me, I'm not chasing some sort of heroic aspiration or anything like that," she finds herself blurting out hazily. "Hell even becoming known in the city like you Arrows," apparently she calls him and his mentor with the moniker, "and the League are - that's not my mission, not even _close."_

He feels a little put off at how seriously she terms her activities. She'd compare her nightly suicide runs to a.._ mission?_ He's never heard of one like this.

"What is your mission then?"

He promises he'll soak in whatever answer she'll give him like a sponge, because he needs to swallow it whole. It was driving him crazy that he doesn't understand what this ordeal means to her, let alone accept her judgment.

So if he can't stop her, at least lord help him learn to feel a little less at fault for letting her be. If only he could feed off her guilt of the unknown she's faced alone earlier.

She's durable, he'll be honest, but she's pretty darn close to breaking. And he won't have it.

"I'm trying to pay off my debt," she elaborates, bound on her claims by gravity, "Paying tribute this way through cleansing the streets of bad people - that's the _least_ I can do to stand living and looking in the mirror every morning I wake up. And Vincent would be proud of me, as twisted as it sounds. That is if he knew."

"Your stepbrother? The little one?" The name felt familiar to Roy and he registered who it belonged to.

"He's eleven now I think, and not so little anymore actually," she muses as if in a daydream, before remembering where she was.

There's a tiny part of him that doesn't feel better, and feels worse really when he's able to sum it up together. All of the half truths, all of the pieces.

"So you fight crime because you feel indebted to the family you abandoned," he didn't make it sound like a question, it was supposed to be one, and he hates himself for having the balls to do that almost immediately.

It's hard to read if the girl beside him feels at ease or not with his recent knowledge. She masks it well, ironic for someone who would be caught dead wearing one. She's walking on a wire really with that particular choice, along with many others he could illustrate profoundly well if he wants to get catty with her but maybe, just maybe.. she'll be alright.

He'll do everything in his power to make sure of that.

"That's the main reason for it," she brings him out of his dwelling hole of logistics, refreshingly sharing some of her own in return, "Other than that, it's a nicer, and a much more stimulating workout than indoors."

She's taking this so lightly, it's unreal. He endures this passing a lot more pleasantly than he's predicted. "Why do I find it _not_ surprising that you're seemingly not afraid of what you can get into by doing this? Have you ever thought about what you could've done instead?" _Like leading another life where you don't have to constantly watch out for sociopath killers? Or a team of them wanting you to join their group at all costs?_

"Isn't that a _good_ thing? Not being afraid?" She questions him the opposite. She doesn't deflect herself from replying though, proudly at that. With a thin smile he could just barely, nearly spot, and a bounce in her spirits she expressed, "And to answer you head on, _yeah,_ I've considered other things.. Like I could've gotten a full-time job that pays better other than serving food and drinks, but just my luck I got stuck there as I lacked a decent degree."

The list doesn't end there, and he thinks it's an enigma how she's this decisive, capable of walking away from better things, the good road most people can't resist.

"I could've went to Brown with that scholarship I was shortlisted for in Social Politics and gotten it. But no, I guess some things aren't meant to be," she falls quiet, flat. He's anything but that when he debates, "It's not a good thing to be fearless, if it's for the sake of your life. You _should_ be scared. So why aren't you?"

"I don't have anything to lose. That's why," she told him sternly. "There's nothing holding me back. If the Shadows strike another move at me, as in solo target, I'll just run. Do what I do best," she chewed out almost shamefully.

"You _don't_ have to run. The League can protect you if they continue their pursuit," he swears solemnly.

She takes the bait this time, the off-switch in her mouth gone as she reveled his particular ineptitude at being a realist. He seems to have ignited something in her. "Why bother saying 'if' instead of 'when', Roy? I know they're coming, you don't have to tell me as if things are looking up. They're not. And they won't."

"But-," his argument is cut short. Her eyes flashed dangerously, her sharp words matching them. "Can we not talk about this anymore? You promised to not force me into saying anything I don't want to last night unless I felt like it. And I _did_ happen to agree to spending these next nights at your place, remember?"

Gradually, she just sounded like she was defeated. Tired. Like she didn't want to stir something and get all heated up. He gets that. And in the end he doesn't have it in him to pry any further than he already has. He's gotten his fair share, if not more, and to his credit it's presently not through personal violation or something similar.

"Okay. But will you at least consider joining forces with me, as in Red Arrow without the other Leaguers for the time being?" He requested earnestly.

Her nerves are gone, dust at this point, replaced by a spark, a braver calling that practically screams yes at his offer. There's a beat, and then she narrows her eyes at him slightly in suspicion. "Wait. You're not going to confine me to your apartment now that I'm staying there?"

_"Hell _no. That will only confirm the rumors I'm trying to deny," his tone is surprisingly humorous yet fanciful at the same time.

She balked, "What rumors?"

"That you're a call girl who's staying a little longer than a night," Roy explains dryly, very much relaxed, like the wayward son he is.

She makes a noise that falls somewhere in between a snicker and a choke. "You have issues, man. Your neighbors wouldn't automatically invent that sort of gossip unless you were some kind of playboy extraordinaire."

"I do have my moments, and they're rather memorable. So what can I say?" There's a lopsided grin on his face as he admits this rather fondly and that confirms it for her. _Yup, he's a keeper._

"Unbelievable," she proclaims. "You are _sick."_

Roy is entirely immune to her insult, even taking a good laugh, somewhat appropriately. He thought he could get used to this. Her being transparent and all.

"So.. duo patrol tonight?" He returns to his previous invitation. Her answer doesn't disappoint.

"You bet. Let's see what you got, Red."


	6. Chapter 6: Take Me To The Riot

A/N: Man, I wished we got a season three for Young Justice. It's just so sad, the void the show left in my heart when it ended. Aw, crap, I'm getting sappy. Anyway.. here's another installment to the story, I hope you enjoy this bit as much as I enjoyed writing it for you guys. Reviews/favorites/followers would be lovely. **  
**

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**Chapter 6**

_Take Me To The Riot_

She'd be lying if she said patrolling Star City with Red Arrow didn't put a smidgen of pressure on her shoulders.

It put a lot of it.

Maybe prematurely screwing up or the sort was in the manual for newbies like her who just learned the ropes within a few months, but no, she swore to herself she wouldn't disappoint.

It wasn't that impressing Roy had been a part of her to-do list, but she'd rather match up to the archer for he'd been giving her quite a show. Sure he had a cheat since his toys were downright flashy, even on par to the James Bond caliber, but he did have the skill to back it up.

Expensive equipment aren't going to work themselves you know, his arrows aren't the ones making the shot, he is. And boy, does Roy know how to do it with style.

She might've accidentally gaped once or twice, her lips parted just slightly, not wide enough to catch bugs at the sight of his impeccable aiming. Even during a jump midair. Or upside down. Anytime in the heat of the moment really.

Who knew Roy was flexible? Handsprings, either back or front, rolls, even a measly flip had been delivered. And the guy was all muscle, heavy load, and that's not even considering his not so modest height. Just how did he pulled his bag of tricks?

To be fair, she did keep up. In fact there was a bit of a competition going on between the two, like who wins the highest knockout count for starters.

She feels a little squeamish though when it becomes clear to her that the gun strapped on her thigh is being paid a lot of attention to. Even the thugs regarded her with visible caution, as if she had less mercy than her current partner.

Honestly she would be perfectly fine with leaving her Glock-17 back at the redhead's apartment stashed in her things, but turns out rule #1 of being stupid and impulsive together with Roy is being appropriately armed. He even issued her to bring along a spare stash of magazine rounds stored in her leggings pocket, in case she ran empty though she barely used three bullets per night. And since she's only familiar with using handguns for now, she only had one option, no time for improvisation and rejection's a far too foolish course of action.

Sure she always did rely her battles primarily to her fighting skills, but there should always be contingencies. She did vaguely remembered shooting one guy in the calf back then on her first nights when she needed a last resort to incapacitate him.

Eventually as the next few days passed on, with each night carrying its portion of ass kicking, their teamwork progressed. It became less and less reminiscent to the _I take right, you take left?_ sort of plan, and instead they just.. _flow._

They ran in to the cross fire at just about the same time, and learned how to synchronize.

With that being said though, they still do handle ridiculously sticky situations despite of how they've overcome the partnership stint. Like in presently for example. They're in Orchid Hall, a drastic change from the Glades. With no natural affinity for crime, they were marching through the high-end neighborhood courtesy of an anonymous tip, which probably meant the League or Green Arrow indefinitely.

Anyways, they were running low on petty engagements with random felons in their previous area so Red Arrow found no reason to decline the suggested task. Word on the street was, in light of tonight's diplomatic conference, there would be a third party indirectly sabotaging the peace.

Precisely why Roy's trying to disable a bomb embedded to the car of Turkey's Prime Minister, which had been a lovely Continental Bentley by the way, accompanied by her current match with the trio bandits who inserted the explosive into the vehicle in the first place.

Not the sight you would expect at the _oh so_ eloquent City Hall's parking lot, huh?

Nova felt slightly on edge for fighting three guys, since her eyes and sinuses could only do so much in predicting simultaneous attacks. She's partly wishing Roy could've given his heads up for there had been several close calls she would not like to repeat.

Thankfully somehow with the fact that they were all faceless goons with the typical gray ski masks, it felt easier to counter them. All out bloody and all. She didn't even feel bad as she continued to engage on this very brutal game of "keep away from Roy and the bomb".

It's past ten minutes already, and she's swatted the boys around like flies for a bit, but it's beginning to shift from a manageable cardio workout into a high maintenance cage brawl.

Just after dispatching one guy with a shoulder throw that resulted in him landing on his back and rear on the hard asphalt, his friend caught her from behind, entrapping her in a tight hold by the midsection. She struggled, but did execute a mighty two feet kick at the other one charging at her from the front by his chest.

Her weight after the move had tipped back harshly at her captor, and as she felt his grip loosen, she took the opening. Her heel stomped on his foot with a sickening crunch, and once released her elbow rocketed onto his face. She turned towards the man, intercepting his blind punch with a deft block, parried some more before pulling out a roundhouse kick high up to his jaw. He falls, out cold.

The remaining two intensely rounded onto her, surrounding her in circles, possibly for a menacing effect. She's not impressed. She calls for Roy, "I'm _not_ having a good time here, Red!"

"That makes two of us!" He yelled back, pardon he's nervous, with sweat trailing down his eyebrow as he went on working. The bomb was digital not analog, and that's too bad because he could've used his comm link to patch through the Boy Wonder to have the kid walk him through stopping the thing. But he couldn't, everything's manual with tiny little wires, switches and tubes of fluids. So, no. Hollywood programming cannot be of any help to him.

"How much longer?" She questioned, while multitasking as she dodged an impending attack rather abruptly.

"Hopefully in less than thirty-seconds because we're down to one minute," Red Arrow answers, reading the timer, as his fingers danced across the device.

She resisted the urge of kneeing the criminal on the groin, because it was a cheap trick that's beneath her, and instead feigned a hit to his side, when in reality she pivoted quickly to catch him by surprise from behind. Her boot came in collision to the base of his spine, as he clumsily collapsed forwards. Not done yet, she nailed him on the abdomen as he fell before smashing the length of her forearm onto the back of his neck with full force.

She was just going to look for the last standing man, wanting to catch onto a limb of his and get on with some grappling to flip him sideways but the recipient of her violent intentions was nowhere to be found. He'd trekked onto the archer's direction just as the hero proclaimed he might be finishing soon.

There wasn't enough time to cover the distance. Nova only thought of one instinct to get the man away from the very much occupied and unguarded vigilante. Knowing it would be effective yet relatively harmless since it wasn't point blank range, she fired. The bullet struck him on the upper end of his torso. His body plummeted to crash onto the Bentley's hood, obviously bending it and flawing the paint. He groaned, semi conscious, and disoriented, albeit very much taken care of.

Roy whom had conveniently gotten his half share of the job done just then, had instantly whipped towards her when the gunshot pierced through the air. Apparently the ring of echo left resonating in its wake had been nothing but dull, since no one from the party inside had bothered to check out the recurring commotion.

"What the _hell?"_ He panics, to only be at the end of her unamused stare.

"I was watching out for you," she sheepishly answered, before his concern got to her. She almost wanted to deck him honestly, she wasn't _that_ careless. "He's wearing a bulletproof vest, Red. I wouldn't have shot him anywhere near his vitals if I hadn't know he was properly armored. I only stunned him and maybe caused a little bruising on the ribs."

The only purpose of her shot was to steer him clear of an unanticipated offense. The sole objective had been reached.

"Sorry," he apologized. _For not believing in you. _

She let it pass, apparently his lack of faith did little to appease her, but she hadn't taken it to heart so severely. Walking towards him, she preened into the car's interior, spotting the bomb. It was sixteen seconds away from detonation point when Roy figured it out.

She gave his handiwork a funny look. "Wow, I feel _so_ safe already, knowing I was just moments away from being blown up to mashed potatoes."

"Ha ha. I happen to be a little rusty when it comes to tech stuff. Robin's better at it," he defended himself on the subject. "Anyway, I would have suffered the same fate as yours if that were to happen."

She shook her head, chuckling at his excuses. Why couldn't he admit he'd succeeded on the fly with mostly luck instead of training in the foreign department of dismantling explosives? Ah, that's right, it's because Red Arrow's a hundred fifty pounds of manly dignity and the supreme art of bullshitting.

Roy was curious, pointing hesitantly to the unlucky guy whom she shot. "By the way, how did you know he was wearing layers?"

"Well, you sure bought me a lot of time that I was blessed with the unfortunate chance of copping a feel. Come on, even six packs cannot be that taut," she explained.

"I was doing as fast as I could," he interjected lamely, obviously guilty that she had to experience the uncomfortable ordeal as well as for picking up the slack and grunt work in general of their recent exploit.

"I know," she gave him a break then.

Roy promptly called in the SCPD and reported the crime under his alias. The cops would come soon to the scene, handcuffs in tow. Sure these fellows didn't exactly commit a direct assassination attempt, this was nothing close to the sort and given the timing plans, the goal of this had been simple chaos and not murder. Still, they would be taken in by the police for questioning, given the equivalent punishment to their culminated efforts in the destruction of civil property.

It was time to bounce. The pair did so ceremoniously as sirens wailed from afar.

* * *

He didn't dwell around too much to come to a decision. He considers her as someone trustworthy, and to help solidify her talents, it would be beneficial to introduce her to his local safe-house. GA had given him a modest budget to keep the place's electricity and other utilities running, along with a few smaller ones in other towns, but this one as his home base had been the grandest.

It's located five blocks away from his apartment, a nice enough route that they can do an early morning jog to get there. It's squished between this Nokia operator service building and a dentist's place for children.

After a bit of scuffling and messing around with his gadgets, he was somewhat pleased that she did take interest in his arsenal, they decided to spar.

Roy found it odd yet nice the fact that he didn't have to accommodate his fighting techniques to be gentler. She naturally bore a rougher streak in her combat methods than most females he knew. It was far from perfect, required strict polishing, but she was well on her way.

After an intense four minute tiger match between the two, he'd hauled her over his head and threw, but had tossed her down lightly.

The third round, alas he'd won the first two, began the instant her back hit the mat.

Nova wasn't playing nice anymore, nearly punching him squarely on the eye if he hadn't swayed back. He came at her repeatedly, but it seems that her motivated state was doing her more good than harm for he'd missed more than he scored. She got a clean hit at his side before twisting underneath him.

Moving fast, she'd gotten a vice firm grip on his bicep and his hip, before she repaid the gesture of body slamming him. However she did it none too kindly, not minding to soften his landing the way he did with her. He supposed she did have herself to prove.

It doesn't hurt. Much. Well his tail bone's a little sore. But an _ouch_ here and there was a supplementary if not a vital side to training. Physical pain is demanded in the job description after all. He laughs it off, not at all disgruntled or resentful.

Beaming, she offers him a hand up. "Two rounds out of three?"

Truth be told, he found it unsettling that her endurance's already set on such a high bar. If she didn't press for more, he would've gratuitously offered them both a shower to mark the end of this getaway session.

They were both slick with sweat even with the minimal exercise clothing; a sleeveless shirt and basketball shorts for him while she's in an adidas getup which consisted of a black midriff baring tank and knee length trainers. They were both barefoot for the better part of the hour.

He takes her hand, hoisting himself to stand. "You're really taking this seriously, aren't you?"

"Pretty much," she shrugs, already stepping back into a stance. He mimics her. "Or you just really want to kick my ass again.."

She grins, and he sports a similar expression. "That's what I thought."

* * *

Dinah is on the phone with him right now, and has been for the past fifteen minutes or so. He's not worried about Nova listening, because she's fixated on the news broadcast (apparently there was a mix-up and now Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan has Green Arrow to thank for but she's in a fairly good mood and it doesn't get to her at all, in fact if he knows better there's just humor in her eyes as she watched the program's full coverage) and he's supposed to be sharpening his arrows quietly in the confines of his mostly soundproof bedroom.

She never really pries into his personals (too bad Roy doesn't reciprocate her outlook, having been tempted once or twice to scourge through her belongings for safety reasons before realizing he was being completely absurd and perverted to a sense), especially those of that category, having already felt that it was a vast privilege she'd been shared to as she was able to spend quality time in his very own dojo.

Roy sighed. _I'm a hypocrite. I don't like people keeping secrets, but I entitle and justify myself to keeping my own._

"What's her current equipment?" Dinah asks over the line. She was being patient, yet had all dragged out the necessary conclusions in a timely fashion. Making her fiance's ward explain the whole thing to her had taken a lot of gibberish. Thank god, she'd already had an inkling towards the situation because if not it would have taken her a lifetime to understand the case.

Roy was housing, and partnering up with a rogue crime fighter. Dinah fondly remembered how Donovan's name had popped up as a short segment, a part of the League meeting back a few months ago before they'd forgotten about her in light of larger problems.

Of course, she joined in the other members' consensus; the young adult had to be stopped and reined in - but deep down, the woman behind Black Canary harbored a form of appreciation, not approval mind you, at the girl's homage.

To be fair, she did see the importance of containing the youth's devices before she hurts herself to the point of no return, but Dinah had to cave in to the juvenile idea of breeding that raw potential. After all with the proper regimen, just about everyone could become a soldier of justice.

The blonde had been grateful that Roy of all people had dialed her number to discuss this.

"She's using a Glock-17," before the woman could cut him, Roy confirmed further, "Don't worry, she's playing it safe. I know it's not an ideal choice of tools, but I think she should stick to it. She's good. Even practiced and nailed three-fourth of the targets yesterday with Ollie's M&P-15. And get this straight, she never touched anything larger than the standard pistol."

"I don't doubt it. If_ the_ Michael Sommers wanted her as a trainee, she must be good."

"That's why I'm pushing this, Dinah. All she needs is guidance, directions-"

"And capital," Dinah finished the sentence for him. She could hear him muttering a committal sound on the other end of their communication. She smiles. "I can get it done. I'm glad you came to me for this, Roy, and regardless of your falling out with Oliver, you_ can_ trust him too."

"I'll keep that in mind, Di," he told her.

Though if Roy had to confess, he was still particularly standoffish with his former mentor although most of his flames of rage had been doused. He didn't have a bone to pick with against Ollie, but the young man felt that it was in his right to behave like the unforgiving, immature brat in retaliation to the lack of credibility and promise the Queen had towards his protege on the last fourth of July's skirmish.

Nova was a very.. how does he put this, uh,_ delicate_ obstacle in his life. He wants to help her, though ironically he would need another person's help to do so. That person he'd voluntarily let in on the matter was obviously Dinah. She suits it better than anyone else, and she was a terrific, well everything to him basically - a terrific teacher, friend, nontraditional mother figure, and so on. If there was anyone he might think of as family these days, it would be her.

"I'll send the funds online later tonight. You're still using PayPal, right?"

"Roy, you don't have to pay for it. I can spot some cash from the joint League account, discreetly at that, Diana told me how to launder it out without Batman knowing if anything was missing."

_Oh, so Diana did move on from Clark and is now having amorous relations with the Dark Knight himself. That's some good gossip. I wonder if Robin minds,_ Roy absentmindedly thought.

"Dinah, _don't._ Really, I want to."

She agrees with him then, knowing it wasn't about the money, it was about his participation. He really wanted to invest a lot into Donovan, in both literal and non-literal sense. "Alright, so what do you want?"

"Just about everything she needs. She favors dark, subtle colors for her clothes.."

"Smart girl."

"Obviously it'll be good if the pants have a holster or a pocket for her gun and ammo, but a belt is okay too."

"Go on."

"Shoes; she's quick and comfortable in heels, I think she likes being taller and being able to step on people's toes."

"Damn, she's a lot like Diana when Oliver dissed her boots."

"To give Ollie credit, the Wonder Woman ensemble _does_ stand out like a sore thumb. It's essentially the American flag. Oh, and a new weapon to top it off. She needs something a little more durable and substantial."

"I hear you, Roy. I can get the package coming in a few days if there's no glitches."

"Let me know when you send it."

"Of course." She was just about to drop the call, but her surrogate son's voice suddenly let out a hesitant, thin, "Dinah?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for doing this for me," he sincerely thanks her, and didn't feel the need to securely input something along the lines of _don't tell Ollie about this, okay?_ because he already knows she won't.

"Your welcome," Dinah replies warmly. "Have a good night, Roy."

"You too." She hung up. He tossed the phone onto his nightstand, before going off to join the brunette by the television outside.


End file.
